


The Resurrection of Fear

by thetransgirlwhoneverwas



Category: Doctor Who, Gallifrey (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 16:00:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16452953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetransgirlwhoneverwas/pseuds/thetransgirlwhoneverwas
Summary: War is coming. Narvin sees a new threat on the horizon, and he's out of options.





	The Resurrection of Fear

He woke. That was the first surprise. His last memory was of dying, and knowing that he wasn’t going to come back from it. His head spun, his vision was blurred, none of his senses were working properly. His body and mind hadn’t adjusted to existing yet.  
Before he had a chance to start processing anything, he heard a voice that seemed to come from everywhere. “Good day, Master,” it said, and hearing his name - that name, in all its glory, The Master - brought reality slightly more into focus. “You will find clothes to your right.”  
The Master - oh, did that feel good to identify as - looked to his right. His eyes still did not function as they should, but he made out the indistinct shape and colours of a set of Prydonian robes resting on a table. He stood up from the chair he hadn’t realised he was sitting on, and slipped them over himself, musing that he hadn’t been wearing anything beforehand. He considered this for a second, before realising he did not know what he looked like anymore, or if he was even still a he. This was a new incarnation, an entirely new regenerative cycle, he thought as his memory and identity slowly returned along with his senses. He could sense others around him now, in another room next to this drab, featureless chamber. Time Lords. Several of them.  
To his right again, he saw a mirror taking up most of the wall. A two-way mirror, he knew, sensing most of the Time Lords he detected behind it. One in particular caught his attention. Regardless, he approached and examined his new visage. He was bald, which was not new, although this time his baldness wasn’t a result of being horrifically burned. A handsome face, he thought, an expressive face. No facial hair at all, either. He didn’t think facial hair would suit his face, but he thought he would miss having a goatee this time around. It had become somewhat iconic.  
A door behind him opened and a man stepped through. A serious expression appeared permanently etched onto his face, his short hair indicating no sense of personality, and his eyes betraying nothing of his emotions. He stood straight, arms behind his back, and stared the Master down with intensity.  
“My name is Narvinectralonum,” he said.  
“Hello, you,” the words came from the Master’s mouth before he really had a chance to think, but he felt it suited him. His senses were returning to him. He could see perfectly, he could hear acutely, he could feel time swirling around him, and he was regaining his sense of self. This incarnation, he thought, was bold. Confident. He felt good, better than good. Better than everyone else. Better. After all, he was the Master.  
“Narvinectralonum, eh?” he continued, testing his new voice. Refined, proper, good range, naturally fairly high. He sounded bombastic. It fit nicely. “Well, it’s a bit of a mouthful, isn’t it? I’ll call you Ectra for short, how’s that sound?”  
“Narvin,” the man replied, and the Master instantly decided he disliked him. Even less of a sense of humour than the other Time Lords, and that took genuine effort. “I am Coordinator-in-extremis of the Celestial Intervention Agency.”  
“Oh, the good old CIA,” the Master chuckled, making sure to put plenty of emphasis on each letter of the acronym. Oh, he was going to have fun with this voice, he just knew it. “Coordinator-in-extremis, hmm? Who’s the regular Coordinator?”  
“Coordinator Romanadvoratrelundar is currently away from Gallifrey on important business,” he replied.  
“Romana? Last I heard she was Lady President,” the Master smirked, deciding that several layers of sarcasm were appropriate. “Was there a scandal? Someone try to assassinate her? Or did she just get bored of executive power?”  
“We have resurrected you because we desire your service, Master,” Narvin pointedly refused to answer his question.  
“Oh, the irony in that sentence,” the Master muttered to himself.  
Narvin said nothing in response, simply raising an eyebrow like a condescending teacher expecting a chattering student to repeat their quip to the class.  
“Oh, please please please, do carry on,” the Master gestured at Narvin to continue.  
“Your files indicate that you are considered dangerous and highly effective at eliminating threats-”  
“Oh, I have files, do I?” The Master asked with faux sincerity.  
“We have files on every Time Lord and Lady in the history of Gallifrey. You are no exception. I have read your files, and I have seen the sort of capabilities you have-”  
“And did that scare you, Narvin?” The Master interrupted again, lowering his voice, speaking in almost a whisper, testing out how intimidating he could be.  
“I have never been afraid of you, Master.”  
“Then you are either lying, or very misinformed.”  
“You may scare others, Master,” Narvin allowed just the tiniest fraction of pride to infiltrate his voice, “but I have seen things that would terrify even you.”  
“I highly doubt that,” the Master opined.  
“Back to the topic at hand,” Narvin resumed suppressing his emotions. “You have been resurrected for the purpose of working for the CIA in order to destroy the Eminence.”  
Narvin retrieved a remote from his robes and activated a hologram that covered the room in an image of outer space. Narvin paced across the chamber, coming to a stop in front of the mirror. In front of him was a huge, glowing, orange cloud, larger than the holographic planets. The Master sat back down in the chair and examined the cloud.  
“This is the Eminence,” Narvin explained. “We started to detect it some time ago. We have no idea where it came from, but it has started showing up throughout history, seemingly out of nowhere.”  
The Master shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Narvin’s mouth curled upwards in satisfaction, thinking he had unnerved him. In actuality, the Master simply hated Prydonian robes. He decided that the first thing he was going to do upon getting a TARDIS was find some clothes from Earth. Humans may be a weak, pathetic excuse for a lesser species, he thought, but he had to concede they made the most comfortable clothes in the universe.  
“It has the ability to kill others, naturally,” Narvin continued, “but more worryingly it can also possess others, turning them into its immortal servants, or Infinite Warriors as other species have started to call them.”  
Suddenly the Master was intrigued. Immortality? Absolute control over those infected by this gaseous creature? An idea started forming in his brilliant mind, an idea that quickly started growing into a plan.  
Narvin started to pace across the room again, but only made it a single step before he found he could move no further. He reached his arm out, and it collided with an invisible barrier.  
“What’s happening?” he demanded, immediately looking back to the Master.  
“Oh, sorry!” the Master replied brightly. “I’ve just been enacting my escape! You see, I have no interest in being some puppet of the Celestial Intervention Agency.” He spoke the name with a mocking tone.  
“But, but how-”  
“It’s simple really, I hypnotised one of your little agents behind that two-way mirror behind you, oh you didn’t really think that would fool me, did you? I’ve been telepathically giving her instructions while you’ve been prattling on about this scary cloud of yours. She’s killed all the others for me, she’s such a good little girl! Say hello!”  
Narvin turned to see the mirror image fade and reveal a single agent in the control room holding a staser, standing at the console above the bodies of the other agents.  
“But I can still sense the others! They’re all still there!” Narvin protested, refusing the believe the evidence of his own eyes.  
“Oh, that’s me again, sorry!” The Master continued, deeply enjoying the panic settling into Narvin’s eyes. “I’ve been bouncing my telepathic presence around the room, mimicking the others. Oh, you didn’t suspect a thing, you poor deluded Narvin.”  
“But, why can’t I move? What’s happ-”  
“I had my agent activate a stasis field around you, do keep up old thing!” The Master rose from his chair finally, slowly approaching Narvin. “And guess what I’m going to do now?” He was almost singing at this point, practically giddy at the terror he could see breaking through Narvin’s facade.  
“Wh-wha-” Narvin stammered.  
The Master leaned in close and whispered “I’m going to kill you now.”  
Before Narvin or the Master could say anything more, however, an alarm started blaring. The Master glanced at his hypnotised servant, still standing to attention. An automated alarm, he thought, detecting the dead Time Lords.  
“Damn!” he growled. “Lucky for you, I’ve run out of time. But we’ll meet again, I’m sure! Toodles!”  
The Master left the room waving jauntily, before turning his back on Narvin and walking briskly down the hallway, unconcerned with the approaching Chancellery Guard.  
The agent seemed to regain her senses, looking in confusion at the staser in her hand, and dawning horror at the corpses surrounding her. Deactivating the stasis field, she spoke through the intercom.  
“What happened? Coordinator, what happened? Please?”  
“He’s gone, Rae,” Narvin admitted, dejected. “The Master escaped.”  
Agent Raenadvoralepsa was silent for a few seconds, before she spoke through the intercom again.  
“Coordinator, what you said earlier, about not being afraid. Was that true?”  
“Yes, it was,” Narvin replied. “I never feared the Master.”  
He was quiet for a moment.  
“Although I believe I do now.”


End file.
